


Kisses are forever

by artisan447



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Community: kissemdanno, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 08:18:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisan447/pseuds/artisan447
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Sunday mornings are just ... Sunday mornings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kisses are forever

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Many thanks to [](http://siriaeve.livejournal.com/profile)[**siriaeve**](http://siriaeve.livejournal.com/) and [](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/profile)[**dogeared**](http://dogeared.livejournal.com/) for their lightning fast beta-ness. *squishes*

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Kisses are forever**

 

Danny can't say what wakes him, except that he knows it's not the alarm.

Which means it's a weekend -- Sunday, he thinks, and yes, Sunday, because yesterday they'd wrapped up the Mason case and that was a Saturday. This he knows because the drive back from Halawa had consisted of forty minutes of dodging the stadium crowds via neighborhoods and backstreets only the less salubrious of Hawaii's residents, and Steven McGarrett, would know existed.

And god, it's so _so_ good to just wake up under his own steam, and rare enough that for a minute he can't bring himself to move. He just lies perfectly still, reveling in the knowledge that for the first time in weeks, there's been no overnight emergency, no murder or mayhem involving coconuts or, god-help-him, pineapples, and no escalating crisis that needs the special and unique talents of one Detective Daniel Williams.

"Which is a damn fine state of affairs," he declares out loud as he rolls onto his back in the middle of the big bed. Complete and utter silence meets his statement, and that is quite possibly the best response ever. He extends his arms up over his head and stretches his body to its maximum, groaning with satisfaction when his back pops and cracks.

"Thank you," he murmurs, bringing his hands together then scrubbing them through his hair and over his face -- the rasp of early morning stubble against the palms of his hands should probably not be so delightful -- "Thank you, oh great Hawaiian god of sleeping in. I am your truly humble servant."

He really should get up. Get up, get dressed, and go and find out what the crazy-Navy half of his relationship is up to. But there's something wrong with his eyes, they keep sliding shut, and his limbs are so heavy and languid he's not sure how he would manage to stand even if he could make the effort. And besides, he's heard it doesn't pay to look a gift-horse in the mouth, and a morning sleep-in is 100% a gift in Danny Williams' book.

He curls onto his side and lets his head sink back into the pillow. The last thing he hears is muffled laughter from downstairs.

  

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

 

Steve hears footsteps on the stairs and turns from the sink just in time to watch Danny shuffle into the kitchen. Which is quite the sight -- Danny's hair is like a Nene's nest, and he's obviously more asleep than awake. His PJ pants are riding low on his hips and he's still wearing the threadbare 'Navy Seals' shirt of Steve's that he went to bed in. The one with the logo that he scrawled 'RETIRED' over, in permanent marker, just to make a point.

A couple of steps inside the door and he stops and stands still, blinking at Steve. "Hey, babe," he mumbles, shifting his weight from one bare foot to the other.

Steve grins, because Danny this way -- bleary eyed, and all soft and rumpled with sleep -- is a rare sight, and way more adorable than is good for Steve's heart.

"Hey, yourself," he responds, wiping his hands on the dish towel, and even he can hear the affection in his voice. He takes a step forward and Danny meets him halfway, walking right into Steve's space without hesitation, and plastering himself against Steve's chest.

Steve's breath catches a little and his heart skips a beat, because he still can't quite believe that he has this -- this affection, so easily given. And while he doesn't yet know quite what to do with it, he's learning; little bit by little bit he's figuring it out, and mostly what he's learned so far, when it comes to Danny, is to just go with it. So he settles back against the bench top and uses both hands on Danny's hips to pull him in close.

Danny automatically buries his nose in the crook of Steve's neck, as though there's no other place it should be. "You smell like you just swam 10 miles," he complains, his voice a low, husky, barely-awake rasp. Steve grins, and lets his hands slide around to cup Danny's ass.

"Nah," he denies. "It's only 4 miles from here to Diamond Head, so that would be 8 miles there and back." He smoothes a hand up Danny's back, enjoying the pleasure of Danny's weight against him, and the feel of solid muscle under the well-washed shirt.

"Freak," Danny mutters, rubbing his morning stubble affectionately along Steve's neck and collarbone. "Don't suppose you swam through the store on your way back, huh?"

Steve huffs out a laugh and slides his hand further up into Danny's hair. "No, but Kono dropped off some eggs from her Auntie Ailanie." He leans down to inhale Danny's sleepy, morning scent and rub his own smoothly-shaven cheek against Danny's. "You want me to cook you some?"

"Mhmm," Danny agrees, his voice muffled as he curls his entire body into Steve's, shifting easily with every movement.

"Or I could just stand here and rub your head for an hour or two," Steve teases. He curls his fingers to scratch the tips against Danny's scalp, because he's seen first-hand the magical Danny-whispering effect of a head rub, and this thing between them, this relationship that brings with it permission to touch, is new enough for him to want to indulge. "I swear you were a cat in your last life, Danny."

"Hmmm, maybe," Danny murmurs, tilting his head to follow the pressure of Steve's hand. "Could've been a tiger."

"Oh, a tiger?" Steve laughs, scratching around and under the ridge of Danny's skull. "Fierce," he agrees, solemnly (he's not going to be the one to tell Danny that tigers love water).

"Better believe it," Danny declares and then he turns his head to bite at the ridge of Steve's collar bone, as if to prove his ferocious heritage.

"Hey!" Steve protests, because _ow_ , teeth. "No biting the body that feeds you." But it's all for show, he doesn't really mind. In fact he'd probably pay money for the chance to see this kind of sleepy, playful Danny more often. He slips his fingers back into Danny's hair and resumes scratching at his scalp until Danny lets out a groan, "Oh, god, that's good."

And, yeah, Steve thinks, good is one word to use, he can think of others. Sometimes, he feels as though he's been in a permanent state of arousal since the two of them finally gave in and acted on their attraction. He drops his hands to cradle Danny's face and waits until his eyes blink properly open.

"Hey, babe," he says, mirroring Danny's greeting, not even trying to hide his smile.

"Hey, yourself," Danny responds, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth soft and curving into a grin the way Steve knew it would. His hair is sticking up all over the place, he's not the slightest bit neat or buttoned-up, and he could well be the best thing Steve's seen in his entire life.

He leans down and fits their lips together as Danny stretches up to meet him, and the kiss is good. The kiss is _great_. Danny's lips are soft and mobile, his mouth opening under the pressure of Steve's without hesitation, encouraging him to explore further.

Steve loses track of time as they exchange lazy kisses in the morning sunlight. It's like this between them sometimes, moments when they're so in-synch, so tuned in to each others frequency that he feels as though he can read every thought in Danny's head.

Nothing matters except this. Not today, not tomorrow, not any time in the future.

"Love you," he murmurs, because he can, and because he doesn't say the words nearly enough.

"I know," Danny responds, and then he pulls back to grin at Steve, his eyes twinkling with delight.

Steve laughs out loud, because, yeah, Danny knows, and Steve knows he knows, and right now there is nothing to stop him kissing Danny like this -- here, on a quiet Sunday morning in his kitchen -- again and again, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on Livejournal](http://kissemdanno.livejournal.com/39316.html)


End file.
